


take me back home

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Series: born again [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Post-Hoover Dam Battle (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24182485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: “I’m going to die,”he thinks, curling his fist into the ground, feeling a shard of glass dig into his palm - but it’s nothing compared to the rest of his injuries.“I was the hero of the Mojave, but I’m going to die face down like a dog in the desert.”
Relationships: Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Series: born again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745344
Kudos: 30





	take me back home

Legate Lanius lays dead at his feet and all JJ can think - head swimming with adrenaline - is that he’s done it. In the morning, the desert sun will rise over Hoover Dam, over the Colorado River, over the bodies staining the earth with blood, and it’ll be over - the decades long conflict between the NCR and Legion will finally be put to rest in the shallow grave he crawled out of so long, long ago, and it’ll be  _ over _ . His hands shake on the stock of his rifle, knees threatening to give out, and his injuries come back to him like a slap to his face; a dull throb of a bullet in his legs, a sharp pain at each inhale in his ribs, the ache of his joints and head. He stumbles, grabbing onto the edge of the gates to the Legate’s camp, and empties his already empty stomach into the sand, vision swimming as he does. How long had it been, since he last saw Dallas and Boone crouched at the back of the line, taking potshots and picking off Legionnaires from a safe distance? Since he caught a glimmer of the Legate’s gold mask in the distance, his heart lurching as he told them he’d be “right back” and surged forward? He had always been impatient - eager to finish things faster than he thought they’d get finished - but now he wishes he would have had that virtue before.

The adrenaline fades, and he grips the wood harder, struggling to breathe into his rattling lungs, dehydration and exhaustion and stress piling up one after another. JJ puts his other hand on his side, like holding his (possibly broken) ribs would help. 

_ ‘Go home,’  _ a voice says in his head, and it lights a fire in his chest.  _ ‘Go home, Joey.’ _

He takes a shaky step forward, and his vision goes black.

* * *

_ JJ stares at the man in front of him - taller, broader, no doubt stronger than he’d ever be - and doesn’t know what to say. The words he had just spoken to him still ring in his head and he struggles to piece them back together coherently, from where his brain had blended them up into nothingness. There’s truth in the resemblance - it’s almost like looking into an eerie mirror that shows him what he  _ could _ have looked like, had genetics been on his side. But there’s truly no denying the eyes staring down at him, filled with that same fiery determination his always are. He clenches his fists at his sides as anger begins to bubble in his chest. _

‘I’m… James Peterson. Your father.’

_ The man -  _ James - _ takes a cautionary step forward, and JJ feels Arcade’s hand on his arm, a whisper of his name in his ear. “I know… this is sudden but-” _

_ JJ doesn’t let him finish. A fire ignites in his blood suddenly, and all he sees is red. He’s rushing forward with his fists curled before he even registers what he’s doing - he gets one solid punch in on James’s face, before Arcade’s grabbing him and pulling him away. “Fuck you!” JJ screams, lips pulled back in a snarl, decades of pent up frustration and grief and anger and resentment bubbling to the surface. He struggles against Arcade’s hold. “Fuck you! You left us! I thought you were dead but you just left us! You don’t get to waltz back into my fucking life like this!” _

_ “JJ, calm down!” Arcade yells. James has a hand on the corner of his mouth, eyes wide.  _

_ “Let me fucking go Arcade!” _

_ “What the hell are you-” _

_ JJ rips his arms from Arcade’s hold, rushes forward and grabs James again by the lapels of his duster. Everything in him screams just throw another solid punch into his face, to put a bullet in between his eyes, to let him feel every last shred of regret for what he had done. “Mom was sick and you just fucking left!” he yells, right in his face. James looks somber - guilt and shame on his face. It makes the fire in JJ burn hotter, and he pushes him back, hands shaking as he curls his fists again. He sees his mom’s smile, hears her laughter, feels her hands smoothing his hair down, slow and even, like she always did, and then he’s crying, voice cracking. “Mom’s fucking  _ **_dead_ ** _! Don’t you fucking have anything to say to that! To say to me!” _

_ James just looks up at him, eyes mirroring that same sense of determination - and the same tears - as JJ’s, and he falters ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry, R-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s JJ, now,” he stops him, a frown still set deeply in his face, but he sniffles, and knows he looks more like a little kid than he wants. “You wouldn’t know, though. You weren’t around.” _

_ “JJ-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You don’t get to reconcile. I won’t let you. You left and mom thought you were dead and you never even tried to come back and see us-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What could have been more important than your fucking family,  _ James, _ ” he says, and spits his name like venom. “You just fucking left us. You don’t get to patch this up now. It’s too late.” _

_ JJ walks away from that encounter before James has a chance to reply, and doesn’t look back. _

* * *

JJ comes to smearing blood across the monument to the First Battle of Hoover Dam, and lets out a soft, humorless laugh at the irony, groaning against the cold stone. Crickets chirp around him, the desert heat making way for a chill in the air that sets deep into his bones, adding to every ache and pain he already felt. He pushes himself up straight, pulls his hand away from his side, and finds it covered in thick, red blood, drying under his nails. His head throbs at the sight, and he sucks a breath in through his teeth.

_ ‘Go home _ ,’ the voice in his head says again, making his temples pound. He thinks of brick walls that have stood for hundreds of years, of supplies being counted, a quiet bustle of people coming and going. He squeezes his eyes shut, holding his hand over his side again, to try and minimize whatever blood loss he could prevent now.

_ ‘Home,’ _ he thinks, starbursts behind his eyelids as he starts to stumble his way back toward the highway.

_ ‘Home.’ _

* * *

_ The stars in Zion are a sight JJ can’t help but take in completely, with the way they stretch out in every direction, as far as you can see, twinkling as if to remind the world that there’s more out there than what they know. He likes the excitement of New Vegas, all the lights and the sounds and the people, how everything seems to move two steps ahead of him (although he wonders if his reputation preceding him had something to do with that), but he misses this. Quiet nights under the stars, with a Sunset Sarsaparilla and his thoughts. It reminds him of home. Of Utah. Of New Cannan. _

_ His throat feels tight at the thought, and he curls in on himself, looking away from the sky and down into the valley below him, where he can see the Dead Horses tending to fires and talking amongst themselves. New Cannan was gone. Home was  _ gone _. There was nothing left there for him now, but ashes and skeletons. That shop he always took Dallas to for soda was gone. The old rusted playground equipment Josiah had fixed for them was gone. His home - his bed - was gone. Mom was gone. _

_ JJ lets a sob out through his lips, pulling his knees up and pressing the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. He had held it together all day, talking with Joshua and Daniel, trying to play strategist in a conflict that was not his, that it felt like he hadn’t gotten to grieve, to mourn. Caesar’s Legion destroyed his home - and his only remaining family - and it was hitting him like a ton of bricks. _

_ He’s sniffling into his arms when he hears the gravel crunch behind him, and he turns, looking up at Arcade with wide eyes, sitting up quickly. “H-Hey,” he stutters, wiping at his face.  _

_ “Hey. I was looking for you-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Y-Yeah! Sorry, I just came up to get some fresh air,” JJ says, voice shaking as he manages a weak - fake - laugh. “I’m coming back down in a sec sorry for making you worry-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “JJ-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Long day, y’know? Just needed to destress and-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Arcade sits next to him, startling JJ as he pulls his hands back from his cheeks, where his tears are still falling. “You deserve to mourn, too,” he tells him gently, looking over at him. JJ’s heart skips a beat. “You’re not Atlas, and you don’t have to shoulder the burden of the world on your own. You just lost everything, and I know it’s not easy. You can grieve. No one’s going to think you’re weak.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ JJ stares him down for a moment, before his lips tremble and he lets out another sob, letting himself lean against Arcade, pressing his face into his shoulder as he cries, gripping the lapels of his doctor’s coat. _

* * *

JJ’s face down in the dirt when his vision comes back to him, and he groans, pressing his forehead into the cold sand and trying to will enough strength into his arms to push himself up. He can hear the tell-tale sound of a flag clinking against a flag pole, and he sucks in a gasp of air that’s at least partially the dirt under him. Everything hurts and aches worse than before, and he struggles to coherently take tabs on his limbs. Is everything still intact? Where is all this blood coming from?

_ “I’m going to die,” _ he thinks, curling his fist into the ground, feeling a shard of glass dig into his palm - but it’s nothing compared to the rest of his injuries.  _ “I was the hero of the Mojave, but I’m going to die face down like a dog in the desert _ .”

He thinks of Dallas, rifle across his lap waiting for him in Freeside, of Boone, a silent presence next to him. Of his mom smoothing his hair back gently, of his dad and the small smile of approval he gave him. Of Rex when he barks and jumps on him, of ED-E and his happy beeps. He thinks of Julie Farkas, of Manny Vargas, of all the people he’s helped, of all the hope he’s brought, that despite his shitty luck he could be something so good to others.

JJ thinks of Arcade, brows furrowed while he patches him up, the way he smirks as he makes a joke, the pink tint to his cheeks and the way his eyes roll and how he smiles and how he laughs and the feeling of fireworks JJ had when they kissed and-

He pushes himself off the ground, heaving bile into the sand and groaning, face screwed up in concentration, in anger. His hand grabs the nearest solid object - an old husk of a car - and drags himself up into a standing position, pain flaring across his ribs as he does, his vision starbursts of white and color. Everything hurts again, a rude reminder that he was tiptoeing with death, and that death was skirting closer and closer.

JJ snarls at the thought, spits blood on the ground.

He was not going to lay down and die now.

* * *

_ Dallas sits next to him in silence as they get ready to leave for the dam, tightening the laces on his boots, then looks over at him, brows furrowed. “We’ll be okay,” he tells him, hand on his shoulder. “We always are.” _

* * *

JJ stumbles into a wall, his scream of pain lost in his throat, his vocal cords refusing to make the noise. He pushes himself up, the fire in his chest burning hotter, and leaves a smear of blood across the front of the New Vegas clinic.

_ ‘Home’,  _ a voice rings in his head.

* * *

_ James passes JJ a small wrinkled photo, of a woman among razorgrain and tato plants, with a laugh in her face and James himself on her side. “It’s the only pictures of your mom I have,” he tells him gently. “I want you to have it.” _

* * *

JJ grips the chainlink of the Freeside gate, the cold metal a shock on his hot skin, panting heavily and throwing his weight against the door to open it, feet tripping over themselves as he stumbles into the street in front of Mick and Ralph’s shop.

_ ‘Home.’ _

* * *

_ Arcade stares him down as JJ packs his things away, then finally speaks. “JJ - no. Joey,” he says slowly, and JJ turns to him. “I love you.” JJ doesn’t move from where he is, eyes wide. “And… And I’ll personally find a way to bring you back from the dead just to kill you if you don’t come back to me safe. So you better.” _

* * *

JJ leaves a bloody handprint on the bricks-

_ “Necromancy doesn’t seem like your kinda thing,” he says. _

He pushes the fort’s gate open-

_ “It’s not. Don’t make me go through the trouble. Just promise me you will.” _

He hears the activity stop as he stands at the threshold, panting and clutching his side, vision swimming in front of him, hand a death grip on the wood-

_ “I promise, Arcade.” _

“JJ!”   
  
He lets out a soft laugh, his eyes rolling back as he stumbles, feeling the ground come up to meet him halfway, but instead falls into warmth - and safety.

Into home.

**Author's Note:**

> dallas graham belongs to my [best friend!](https://twitter.com/danasaurusr)  
> [[main twitter](https://twitter.com/milessqueak)] [[fallout twitter](https://twitter.com/c0uriers1x)]


End file.
